


Sound it Out

by AsToldByJess



Category: Game Grumps, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Fighting, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Making Up, pretty self-explanatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsToldByJess/pseuds/AsToldByJess
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Sound it Out

…

They don’t fight.

It’s not so much a matter of opinion as it is a mundane, everyday fact—the sky is blue, water is wet, and Dan and Arin just don’t fight.

Bicker, yes—constantly, in fact. But nasty words and hurtful silences? That’s not them.

Until it is. Until they come back from a tour so wrung out that their normally endearing qualities have no brotherly softness to root themselves in, and their personality differences scrape against each other like nails against chalkboards instead of the gentle pull and give that they’re used to.

“It’s _boring_ , Arin. And we’re so far behind, it’s not even a trend anymore.” Dan’s voice almost goes into a whine on the last couple of words as he runs a hand through his curly hair, and it only grates on Arin’s nerves.

“Dude,” Arin responds, squeezing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “I just think it’ll be fun. It’s okay for things to just be fun, y’know.”

Arin sighs.

“Why are you on my case about this?”

This is where one of them normally would and probably should have made some joke, break the tension, make them both feel embarrassed that they were arguing about Minecraft. But it’s not about Minecraft, not really. Arin opens his eyes at the other man’s silence. He looks taken aback at the silent challenge in Arin’s tone.

“I’m not “on your case”, man,” Dan says slowly, carefully, voice too even to not be forced. “I’m just trying to pick games people actually want to see us play.”

That pisses Arin off. “And I’m not?” The brunette laughs a humorless laugh, looks at his friend incredulously. Dan regards him patiently but has crossed his arms, an anxious or defiant signal to the other man. Arin gestures around his office with his hands.

“Dan, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve kinda got a lot invested in this here operation.”

Arin’s voice is low, his camera persona’s whacky airheaded-ness dropped in place of intelligent business-man Arin Hanson, whose temper burns slow and builds over time. He can feel it now, simmering on top of his already frayed nerves. But one unfortunate thing that does manage to carry over to both his on and off-camera personalities is the deep-rooted insecurity that has driven the man for most of his life, and Dan questioning his resolve, even over something miniscule and stupid, hurts. But because Arin is Arin, so he tells himself, it comes out as anger in his exhaustion.

“I know that, Arin, but you’re just so fuckin’ stubborn over the stupidest shit sometimes and I just—

“ _I’m_ stubborn?!” Arin knows he’s raising his voice, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care about the ever so slight tightening of the hinge of Danny’s jaw, a warning that he’s having to work hard to keep himself in check.

They’ve never had to do that with each other, and it only upsets Arin even more. “You’re the one who can’t stand when every minute little detail doesn’t turn out the way you want.” It’s a subtle shot at Dan’s OCD, even if Arin doesn’t mean for it to be, wouldn’t normally even dream of hurting Dan of all people like that. But he knows it’s something his friend his self-conscious about.

“You can be a real bastard sometimes Arin, you know that?” Dan says, and if he were capable of yelling at someone, he probably would be right now.

“Yeah, what else is new, let me know when you’re ready to quit arguing with the guy who’s technically your boss.”

And there it is.

The lowest blow Arin has in his arsenal. The final firework, the one you save for midnight. That’s what the quick flash in the taller man’s eyes remind Arin of, anyway.

He might as well have punched Dan in the gut for the way his lips part in complete and utter shock. Arin licks his lips, his tongue feeling like it’s making a futile attempt to wet sandpaper. Every bit of anger drains from him so fast he’s almost dizzy.

“Dan.”

“Fuck you.”

Glacial.

So soft that it takes a moment to reach Arin’s ears, but that doesn’t stop Arin from flinching like he’s been slapped when it does.

“Dude, I—”

But Dan is gone, snatching his jacket up off the chair and yanking open Arin’s office door. He very nearly slams it, but perhaps thinks better of disturbing the rest of the office. Arin cringes anyway with the sound, and he catches a glimpse of the rest of the crew, their faces betraying their poor attempts to not eavesdrop on mommy and daddy fighting. They look as shocked and sad as Arin feels and say nothing to Dan as he weaves his long legs through their desks. But Arin doesn’t blame them; he’s in the same boat. He doesn’t know how to fight with Dan.

…

He knew how to fight with Jon.

Namely because they sure did it enough, especially there at the end, but also because he and Jon were perhaps a little too much alike. As time went on, and what scared Arin the most, was how pointless and passionless their arguing became. Heated debates and disagreements that at their base were once still driven with something productive soured as their partnership cooled and it became evident that Jon just didn’t care to continue. Arin didn’t blame the guy, hell, he still loved Jon with all his heart and always would. It just became painfully clear that their passions were going in two different directions.

But he couldn’t go back there. He couldn’t go back to fights with no meaning and wary sighs that became the first signs of trouble.

So when Arin goes to look for Dan and finds that the man has folded his lanky frame into a chair by a window to work on his laptop and be dramatic, Arin can’t suppress the rush of fondness that washes over him.

Dan is different. He’s easygoing and sweet, kind and introspective in ways that have helped Arin grow more than he ever thought he could, and their friendship has become something to be envied among other YouTube duos. Not because they’re oil and water and that’s entertaining, but because they handle their difference like Yin and Yang instead. That’s what Dan is to him. What Arin always wants him to be.

“Danny?” Arin says in a small voice.

The other man glances up at the nickname Arin so rarely uses but doesn’t stop typing. His eyes flicker back to his screen. Arin swallows.

“When me and Jon…”

Dan’s fingers hesitate over the keyboard.

“When me and Jon started fighting a lot,” Arin pushes out, looking out the window for comfort and guidance, “We got to a point where I think we just stopped listening to each other because we could tell it was over but didn’t want to admit it.”

When Arin dares a glance at Dan, he sees that his friend has closed his laptop. He’s listening. Arin takes a deep breath.

“There were warning signs. People think it was so sudden, but it wasn’t. Not really.”

“I’m not going to leave, Arin.”

It’s the first thing Dan has said to him in hours and the sound of his voice startles Arin, makes his eyes widen when he snaps his head in Dan’s direction again. Maybe Dan can see the way Arin is wringing his hands in anxiety and takes pity. He sighs and unbends his legs out from under him, setting his computer aside and standing up.

“Dude, hey. Is that what you were scared of? That I’m gonna leave Game Grumps?”

He wisely chooses not to say “you” for fear of making Arin clam up. But Arin nods helplessly nonetheless, vulnerability clear on his face despite his best efforts.

Dan’s shoulders relax. The kindness that Arin is used to seeing in his brown eyes returns and it makes the brunette feel more grounded.

“I don’t like fighting with you,” Arin winces.

Dan chuckles dryly. “Me neither, Big Cat.”

Arin smiles, feeling almost giddy in the wake of the anxiety valve in his chest loosening up, but he knows what needs to come next.

“I’m sorry, bro. Really. I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with—” Arin pauses, remembering the exact phrasing from the mouth of his former partner.

Dan smiles. “I know, buddy. And I know how I can be. I think you’re awesome, Arin, and sometimes I get so uptight because I don’t want to disappoint you or ruin what you’ve built.”

“What we’ve built, dude,” Arin firmly corrects. “And I don’t ever wanna stop building.”

Dan’s eyes brighten as he opens his arms to his friend. “Bring it in, big guy.”

Arin goes to him, much easier than he would have with another dude years ago. He’s come a long way, and because he’s come a long way, he mumbles into Dan’s shoulder.

“I love you.” He’s glad his face is hidden, though, because Dan’s skinny arms tighten around him in a brotherly embrace.

“Love ya back, Ar,” Dan says softly as they part. “And I’m sorry, too.”

Arin clasps him on the back as they walk off. “Work on it together?”

Dan shrugs. “I wouldn’t know how to do it any other way.”


End file.
